Page 9 of The Woman

I keep the surprise off my face, wondering if that is something you can easily tell or if it’s just because he knows me. Was that why people were staring at me earlier, trying to determine if I’d had sex?

Before I can form a response, he speaks again. “You are not relaxed like a man who has just experienced extreme pleasure the night before or the morning of.” I try to relax my shoulders, but it’s no use, he can tell. “Was it her doing? Is she a defect? If she’s a WOUN, we’ll have to send her away. But we’ll have to make sure it’s done quietly and that no one else knows about it.”

Shaking my head, I pick up a file from my desk. “She’s not a WOUN. It was my choice. It was me.”

“Are you defective, there?” he asks, perplexed, looking pointedly downwards.

“Nobody is defective,” I answer defensively.

Everything works fine down there. But I am starting to wonder if maybe I am mentally off, seeing as I don’t want to make use of her like others would.

And a WOUN? I highly doubt that. While I don’t exactly know what to expect from a woman of unusual nature, I have heard rumors of crazy women who defy orders and act irrationally. They’re not like the others, from what I’ve heard.

“I just wanted to get to know her a little first,” I lie.

His usual frown deepens. “Phoenix, that is not how things are done. You don’t need to get to know her. They’re all the same. She is there for your needs. Sex will help you accomplish more.” Pushing to his feet, he adjusts his suit jacket. “You need to take care of it tonight, okay? You’ve been given a great privilege, and it’s supposed to benefit you. We have a gala to attend this coming Sunday. I will not have you embarrass me with ridiculous notions of getting to know her.” He stands there, waiting for me to reply, and only after I nod does he turn around and stalk out of my office.

Leaning back, I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. How the hell am I going to handle that? He’s going to be watching and analyzing my every move. No doubt he’ll accost me tomorrow morning as well.

Actually, no. My eyes fly open when I remember that tomorrow I’ll be out of the office for two separate meetings with my father. Hopefully, he’ll be too distracted to notice anything about me. That will buy me an extra day to figure it out.

With a sigh, I open my laptop, intending to go through some emails before my first applicant arrives to interview for the assistant’s position, but the little icon in the top corner of the screen pulls my attention like a black dot on a white canvas. It’s for the live feed to the only camera in my home, used for instances of a break-in.

I stare at it for several long seconds before finally clicking on it and then whipping my hand back like it was poisonous. The little box that appears, prompting me to log in, has my senses returning. What the hell am I doing? Irritated with myself, I close out of the app and open my emails. A distraction.

I finish replying to a potential client when my desk phone beeps with an incoming page from Gary, letting me know my first applicant is here.

“Send him in.”

A moment later, there’s a knock before the door opens, and a scruffy-looking young guy saunters in. I’m immediately displeased with his appearance and don’t have high hopes for this one. Regardless, he made it here on time, so I gesture to the chair on the other side of my desk and press my fingers together under my chin.

“Thomas, right?”

He nods his mop of hair. “Yep.”

I keep my eyes trained on him, curious to see how this nineteen-year-old would react under my unimpressed gaze, but he just holds my stare all the same. Finally, dropping my sights, I scan over the information in front of me and note that he attended one of the low-class, run-down schools in the North district and worked as a cashier in a grocery store in the same area until three weeks ago. I didn’t bother reading over these beforehand because I like to assess people in person instead.

“Why do you want to work here?” I ask, still looking at the paper in front of me.

“Honestly? I want to see how the other half lives, and I’m sick of living in a shitty apartment.”

My eyes swing up to him. “Where you live is not my concern.”

He shrugs. “I needed a job.”

“Also, not my concern. I’ll ask you again. Why do you want to work here?”

He huffs. “I like buildings, okay? The design of them and all that stuff. I always have.” He then sits back, crossing his arms.

“You wouldn’t be working here to look at buildings or have anything to do with designing them. You’d be here to work for me and do as I say.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers with a nod.

“Do you know computers?”

He shifts a little in his seat. “Um, no.”

I lean back in my chair. “It’s not looking good for you, Thomas. All I see is someone who will be useless to me and also looks like he just rolled out of bed.”

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